Unchained
by SelahSpinshadow
Summary: Ban and Ginji have been best friends for years. But as well as Ban says he knows Ginji, Kazuki knows him even better. Watching has it's benefits. What becomes of an unchained heart?


  
**Author's Note:** Written for **Kitarin**, Ginji to my Kazuki. This does come off as rather Ban-negative, so if that sort of thing bugs you, back out now.   
**Warnings:** post-first Muengjou arc, floating-point continuity*, one-shot**   
**Disclaimer:** _GetBackers_ is the property of Yuuya Aoki and Rando Ayamine - I'm just borrowing the characters for awhile.   
_* This can be read as either game continuity or sidestepped canon continuity, particularly since there's no set time in which this happens, aside from some time after episode 26   
** Because I keep having problems with people demanding updates to completed fics.... ~_^ There is something vaguely like a sequel to this in the works (against my will), but it'll probably be awhile before it's actually finished, as it's already shaping up to be a longish-fic._   
  


* * *

**Unchained**

  
_"Whatever, threadspool. I know him better than you ever could. Ginji doesn't like to be alone. . . ."_   
  
How many times had he heard that same insult, followed by that same assertion? Kazuki had lost count. Each time rankled as much as the last, even when it was only his mind recalling the snarky delivery. Ginji insisted Midou was only harsh because he didn't want anyone knowing he cared, but there were limits. And apparently Kazuki wasn't the only one to have reached his.   
  
Anger rippled through him again briefly as he looked up at the building's fire escape once more. If Midou knew Ginji so well, why was his friend all alone here in Mugenjou? The easy answer was that Midou didn't know his head from his ass, but that didn't really explain anything. Ginji didn't come back to Mugenjou without reason, whether it be a job or just to visit his friends. No partner meant no job, and according to MakubeX, Ginji had come straight here. Four hours ago. MakubeX was worried, but he was in the middle of a system backup. Besides, while it was arguable who of the two of them was closer to the former emperor, Kazuki was better at offering comfort. Especially to a hurting Ginji.   
  
Which was why he was now staring up at a rusty fire escape, wondering if he should really even be there. Raitei had often selfishly guarded his solitude, but as Midou was quick to point out, Ginji was not Raitei. Kazuki had seen the proof often enough with his own eyes; ever since leaving Mugenjou, Ginji had become happier, more at peace with himself. But that still left the question of whether or not he should intrude on his friend's brooding.   
  
A fat drop of water splattered on his cheek, drawing his attention firmly to the sky. When had the clouds grown so dark? Another drop and then another and before too long the sky opened up with a gentle shower. The tears of angels, his grandmother used to say. The sudden memory hitched his train of thought and he turned his gaze back to Ginji. The blond wasn't moving, his face tilted up to the rain much as Kazuki's had been a moment before, only something in his posture was subtly wrong. His mind suddenly made up for him, Kazuki slipped inside, drawing on a burst of speed to carry him up the stairs more swiftly. Ginji was still perched on the top of the fire escape, as still as a statue though the rain was already starting to darken his blond hair.   
  
"Ginji-san?"   
  
"I guess . . . I should have known . . . someone would come. . . ."   
  
"Ginji-san. . . ."   
  
"It's raining . . . everywhere. . . ."   
  
It was such an odd statement that Kazuki was almost tempted to dismiss it out of hand. But there was something in the way Ginji's eyes refused to meet his that made him pause to consider. The Raitei had long been able to summon lightning at will, but could he now summon the very rain itself as well? To beseech the sky to cry the tears he would not allow himself?   
  
"Come in from the rain with me, Ginji-san? Juubei's apartment isn't far from here. . . ."   
  
The blond head nodded, still turned out towards the other buildings of the West Block, but it was nearly a full minute before Ginji actually stood up and joined Kazuki. Brown eyes were dull and lackluster, unblinking even with the rain dribbling into them from his hair. It wasn't until his hand was actually brushing away sodden bangs that Kazuki even realized what he was doing. Too late to abort the gesture, but Ginji wasn't objecting either. In fact, he looked vaguely . . . zombie-like, the way he simply stood there. Kazuki dropped his hand, clasping Ginji's and then leading his less than responsive friend to Juubei's apartment.   
  
"_Tadaima_!"   
  
No response. Though, given Ginji's state, perhaps that was just as well. Kazuki steered his dripping friend into the kitchen, starting up a pot of water for tea before hurrying to fetch them a pair of towels. He was only slightly encouraged at the way Ginji gave his hair a half-hearted rub. Well, the former emperor was alone in Mugenjou for _some_ reason, and it probably wasn't a particularly pleasant one; pampering couldn't hurt.   
  
"You'll catch a cold that way," Kazuki murmured as he draped his own towel over the back of an empty chair. He then picked up Ginji's, giving his friend's hair a vigorous but gentle towel-drying.   
  
"But Kazu-chan . . . I never get sick," Ginji replied, a hint of his usual literalness surfacing in the muffled words.   
  
"You will if you run around with a wet head in this weather," Kazuki scolded gently, though it was taking all his control not to laugh. Ginji was right; in all their years of friendship, the blond had never once so much as gotten a stuffy nose. Discounting the one time they'd stuffed it on purpose, afraid he'd broken it in a brief skirmish with another gang.   
  
"But Kazu-chaaan. . . !" A loaded pause. "You . . . you're teasing me?"   
  
"Yes," Kazuki confessed as he pulled the towel off of Ginji's head with a smile, tilting the blond head back towards him in the process. "You looked like you could use a little teasing. Want to talk about it?"   
  
"Not really," Ginji sighed. The threadspinner didn't push; he would find out when his friend was ready. Instead he offered him lightly sweetened tea and a plate of frosted oatmeal cookies he'd been hiding away, just in case. Ginji's eyes lit up at the sight of the cookies, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.   
  
"Don't eat too many, Ginji-san, or you'll spoil your dinner."   
  
"But Kazu-chan, what's the point of being an adult if I can't spoil my dinner?" Ginji demanded with a playful pout. His amusement didn't last very long, however. "Besides, I don't think . . . I mean, Ban-chan and I. . . ."   
  
"You'll be slighting the honor of the cook if you don't eat a proper dinner. And considering that cook will be me. . . ."   
  
"Kazu-chan. . . ."   
  
Kazuki couldn't help but smile at the wonder in Ginji's eyes. But he could also see the arguments starting to stack up in those chocolate depths. He didn't want to be a burden. He didn't want to intrude. He knew how hard it was to survive in Mugenjou. He could take care of himself. He should be going back. . . .   
  
Of course, Kazuki had no intention of letting Ginji raise any of his points.   
  
"There's no sense in trying to argue with me about it. Especially if you and Midou are --."   
  
"Don't talk about Ban-chan like that! You don't know him like I do! No one does. . . . No one can. . . ."   
  
"No, Ginji-san, I don't. All I know is my friend is hurting and he's the reason."   
  
"It's not his fault," Ginji mumbled, suddenly fascinated with his tea.   
  
"Then whose fault is it? If it's not about him, then why are you here alone?"   
  
"Because I wanted to be alone for awhile, that's all. It has nothing to do with . . . it's nothing like that."   
  
"Mm-hmm."   
  
Of course Kazuki didn't believe him; few things could get under the young blond's skin like the disapproval of his arrogant partner. For all his knowledge of culture and art, Midou Ban knew little enough about common courtesy. For Ginji, who so desperately sought approval from the snake bastard, the criticisms of his partner often cut to the very quick. Yet too often, it was Ginji who apologized in the end. It was a cycle with a particular ability to needle the last grand master of the Fuuchouin-ryuu techniques.   
  
"It's not! I just. . . ."   
  
"Wanted to be alone? For four hours? Or however much longer you would have sat there if I hadn't come?"   
  
"Yeah. . . ."   
  
"Ginji-san. . . ."   
  
"I'm fine, Kazu-chan!" Ginji interrupted with a forced-cheerful smile. "And you don't have to make me dinner, really. In fact, I should probably go. . . ."   
  
"I know I don't have to, but I want to. Besides," Kazuki said, tilting his head to one side, "listen."   
  
Ginji frowned and obediently turned his head slightly to listen. But Kazuki could tell that Ginji didn't need to hear the soft patter of ice grains to know the rain had changed to sleet and hail.   
  
"I'd be a poor friend indeed," Kazuki murmured, the quiet of the weather urging his own voice softer, "to send you out into that."   
  
Ginji didn't say anything as he went back to staring into his teacup. They both knew Kazuki had won, even if it was by vagary of weather rather than the strength of any argument. His laptop chimed thoughtfully in the other room, soft and yet loud in the silence of the storm. A quick check revealed a message from MakubeX; Juubei was with the computer genius and would be staying until the weather improved, at MakubeX's insistence.   
  
"Looks like it's just the two of us for dinner."   
  
"Juubei's not coming?"   
  
"MakubeX is keeping him until the weather improves. With this hail. . . ."   
  
The blond offered a vague noise of assent, his eyes wandering briefly to the window as he picked up another cookie. Kazuki suppressed a sigh at his friend's reticence and tried to divert himself by debating their dinner options. He'd been considering ordering take out before the change in weather, despite what he'd told Ginji earlier. Now . . . it would hardly be fair and it wasn't like he couldn't cook something for the two of them easily enough. There was still the chicken curry from the night before. He had enough rice from earlier that day to stir up a quick fried rice. Or he could get a little more involved; sukiyaki might be good, or even just nabe.   
  
"I wish it would snow instead. Freeze everything. . . ."   
  
Kazuki glanced over at his friend, worry flitting through him. In the rain, soft as it had been, there had still been that constant background sound. But now that rain had become hail . . . ice was such a quiet thing, only sounding as the subdued _pachi_ of dropped beads, easily dismissed until the relative silence became a living thing. And in Ginji's upset, that living entity was a weight the blond did not want.   
  
"Ginji-san. . . ."   
  
"When it's snowing, we order pizza and have cocoa and watch old movies. And then, after it stops, we go out and make snow angels and snow forts and have our own little snow war. And then . . . and then . . . then he yells at me that he's freezing and can't we go in now to warm up like normal people?"   
  
"Ginji-san. . . ."   
  
"And I'll laugh at him because I'm not cold at all, but I'll let him win anyway, because I always do. And we have to take an extra hot shower because he's so cold, and he'll act like he's so upset, but I know he isn't really. And maybe he'll still be shivering and I'll have to sleep extra close because he's so cold. . . ."   
  
Kazuki didn't know what to say. Ginji had never talked about his partner before, not like he was now. It was almost enough to make Midou sound . . . human.   
  
"I think . . . I want to know what it's like to feel cold again, Kazu-chan. I just . . . want to forget. To make it all go away. But I can't because . . . cuz I promised. And I don't . . . I don't want to be someone who breaks promises."   
  
"What happened?" Kazuki asked quietly, sitting down next to his friend.   
  
"It wasn't much, the girl couldn't afford us, not the way Ban-chan charges, but . . . it was her grandmother's memorial. Ban-chan didn't want to do it, but I just knew we had to. No one else would and she was so upset. And it was a job. A little yen's better than nothing, right Kazu-chan?   
  
"Except . . . when the job was done, she didn't have any yen, just some onigiri her mother had made. It didn't matter to me, just seeing her smile was enough, but Ban-chan . . . he was so mad. . . . I've never seen him that mad before. I mean, we get stiffed all the time, ya know? And at least she wasn't all mean about it or anything. She was even really apologetic! But I think that just made him madder."   
  
Ginji toyed with his half-eaten cookie, looking suspiciously like there was more to this story than what he had admitted so far. Kazuki had seen for himself Midou's obsession with money and heard even more from Shido and Natsumi-chan. It was somewhat understandable, considering the man's horrid luck with money, but that was no excuse to yell at Ginji.   
  
"He started saying how it was all my fault that we never had any money, that I was too soft to be a retriever and how it'd been a mistake to partner up with someone who didn't have any business sense. That we'd be better off if I'd stop making him take unprofitable jobs and didn't I have any pride at all? How could I let the GetBackers get dragged into such worthless business? And then . . . and then . . . then he said he'd been better off on his own! That he was sorry he'd ever met me!"   
  
That was the last straw as Ginji deflated, hunching over the table. For a fraction of a second, Kazuki felt the burning urge to track down Midou and beat him over the head repeatedly, but the desire was easily subverted in the face of Ginji's upset. He scooted his chair closer to drape an arm around his friend's shoulders, not sure what to say.   
  
"He . . . he's been mad before, but . . . but not like this. He forgot the S. He never, _never_ forgets the S. I forget sometimes, but not Ban-chan."   
  
Ginji's head dropped to Kazuki's shoulder, a momentary shudder telegraphing his hurt. And still Kazuki didn't know what to say. He couldn't very well tell Ginji everything would be okay; he'd feel like a liar, offering a promise he couldn't keep. At the same time, he felt like he had to say _something_. . . .   
  
"You'll make it through this, Ginji-san. And if there's anything I can do to help. . . ."   
  
"Thanks, Kazu-chan. I'm not really hungry, but maybe a short nap?"   
  
"Bedroom's down the hall," Kazuki murmured, though he noticed that Ginji didn't move. And didn't move. In fact, the blond seemed to be quite content to stay precisely where he was, even if it wasn't likely to be the most comfortable napping.   
  
"Or there's a couch in the living room, if that's too far. . . ."   
  
"Mm. . . ."   
  
And still Ginji didn't move. Shaking his head with a soft sigh, Kazuki shrugged his shoulder, hoping to get his friend moving again that way. No such luck. Ginji mumbled a protest, one arm snaking around Kazuki's waist. Amused in spite of himself, Kazuki carefully scooped up his friend and carried him to the couch, but Ginji still wouldn't let go. After the day his friend had apparently had, Kazuki didn't need much coaxing to let Ginji snuggle against him. Later, much later, when Ginji was rested and the storm had passed, he would worry about the things he couldn't change. Ginji's hidden scars. Midou's callous words. In the mean time, he could listen to the soft chiming of the ice and offer his friend his silent support. 


End file.
